the broken country ((usuk))
by Ramenrue
Summary: what happens when america loses england? ((admin sucks at summaries)) what made him take his life? what made him jump? and with the appearance of a new country, how will america deal with it all? ((trust me the story's alot better than my sucky summary))
1. Chapter 1

((ramenrue: so hey guys, this will be my first /headcannon/ fanfic i'll be posting on here, so i hope you like it! **warning: this is usuk, america x england, there will be alot of changes to the characters, and lots of character deaths...and then my freaking complicated head cannon.. so yeah. waning. possible lemon in the future if i'm man enough to write it.))**

"Dude I don't understand.."  
"I'm sure the next one will be fond of you..."  
"W-what are you talking about ...?"  
"Hmm...maybe he'll be a better cook.."  
"Arthur, where are you."  
"Maybe he'll be able to tell you what I couldn't say too.."  
"...what?"

"E-england please tell me your d-drunk...just tell me your drunk on the street somewhere..."

"Arthur..."  
"I'm sure you'll like the New England...bye Alfred..."

He stared blankly at the floor, holding the cell phone in his shaking hands. The whistling noise seemed to fill the entire apartment, as it blared from the small speakers...as if the phone on the other end had been dropped, or thrown off a building to be more precise. With a loud 'thud' that came from the speakers, the call had ended.  
He remained silent, as if to process what had just happened. Ah, he could see it now; arthur, sitting there at his small oak table sipping his tea, rambling on about seemingly random things, staring out the seventh story window as always.  
"**...DID HE JUST FUCKING THROW HIS PHONE OUT THE WINDOW?!** I'm so going over there to talk to that friggin weirdo..being all dramatic and stuff.."  
He quickly slid on his leather jacket, soft to the touch from years of wear and tear...it was almost comforting in times of panic; like a blanket to a child, and right now he needed to calm down. He just needed to keep saying england was ok.  
As long as he kept on thinking best case scenarios..the worst one can't possibly happen! That's Americans for you, keeping a high head to get what they want.  
_'It's worked so far..'_he thought nervously to himself as he ran down the all too familiar street to his dear English friend's house.  
_'I wonder if he's ok...he was talking weird over the phone..ha sounded like an old man..'_ he immediately quickened his pace, bursting into a full out sprint. He was worried, the Englishman was known to be emotionally unstable at times.  
He turned the corner, practically ramming through the iron gates that secluded the house from the rest of the world. Hunched over from exhaustion , he caught his breath while staring at the cobblestone. a splatter of blood just within sight, causing him to look up.  
He stared at what lay before him, lying in a crumpled pile of blood and flesh, was the bold country of england.  
"A-ah..ello...love.." He replied upon seeing the horrified American.  
"Artie..." Choking on his tightening throat, he knelt down to his height, cradling him in his arms while fighting back tears.  
"Sorry you...have to see me like this..." He croaked out, voice barely above a hoarse whisper.  
"Artie why..." A gentle sob came from his lips.  
"I've been here for ...far too long. It's time england changed for the better.." A barely audible voice echoed from the fading country he so desperately clung to.  
" please don't leave me... "  
Arthur gave him a sadistic smile, as the American almost engulfed him in the hug, obviously not wanting to let go. And in an instant...he was gone. England was no more. There was nothing but a pile of clothes that fell limp in his arms. He clutched the faded green uniform, letting large tears slip from his eyes."england..."

"Who a-are you?"  
He looked at the clothes in suprize, suddenly realizing that the fabric had moved, so a young child could peer through the opening in the shirt. He stared into the all too familiar emerald eyes of the child.  
"I-I'm america...england?" He stuttered, staring at the young boy in suprize. This child had the familiar blonde hair, and wide green eyes that looked at him in confusion.  
"Who's engwand?" The child asked, clearly having an underdeveloped vocabulary.  
"Oh em..." The American searched his mind for an answer._ 'What do I tell him? i mean Is this thing England... or a new England? __**Fuck**__ i don't know..'_  
"Ah...england was your mother.."  
He quickly stuttered out, Not completely thinking his answers through.  
" Engwand was my mum.? Where is she Amewica...?" The child looked at him with sparkling eyes that demanded a full explaination.  
"...um, I'll explain later...Arthur. So why don't you come home with me kid!" He quickly changed the subject, while he forced the excited smile. The child looked to the older nation with a seemingly happy expression, blinking cutely as he smiled.  
"DWOP DEAD AMEWICA~!"


	2. Chapter 2

He slowly opened the door with the one hand he had free, because Some how along the way he wound up carrying the young Brit in his arms.  
"Ok kid, go make yourself comfortable while I talk with your daddy, ok?"

"..." The boy stared up at the man before him with shocked eyes.

"What's up kid? Why you staring?"

" amewica's not my daddy...?"

A slight blush crossed the usually care free man's face, as he thought about being married to england.._'would I have liked that...?'_  
"N-no...ah, I'm going to give papa France a call..."  
The child looked up at him with a curious smile, as the large fabric that practically engulfed him hung around his body loosely.

"But your Papa!"

"No I-I'm not you dad kid!"

"bwother...?"

"Eh...no.."

The child seemed to scroll over his entire figure, carefully looking at his face and chest.

"Then... sistewr..?"

He looked away with an embarrassed expression , as he gripped the phone tightly.  
"I am your **MALE** ...FRIEND for now. Nothing more nothing less kid."  
The child merely smiled, and skipped over to the large couch behind them  
" Okay amewica~!"

"OHOHON~ sorry mon petite l'amour, I can't come to the phone at the moment! please leave your name and address if you want to make sweet lo-"  
The message was cut short as The american ground the phone into the countertop in frustration.  
**" GODDAMMIT FRANCE PICK UP THE PHONE YOU BAS-"**  
He shuddered as he heard a meek cough come from behind. He turned his head to the side in horror._'oh shit did i just cuss in front of the kid?! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!'_

He sighed in relief as he saw that the child was laying on the plush couch, strands of bright blonde hair falling in his eyes as he slept.

_'That was close...'_

He crept toward the sleeping child, careful not to wake him.  
_'This is an emergency..France'll understand...'_  
He thought as he gingerly picked the fragile dead weight up, wrapping one arm around the child's legs, while the other cradled his head.

"Amewica..."

He looked down at the child, who stared back with half lidded eyes flooded with confusion.

" sorry I woke you up kid... What do you need..?"

"Mommy..."

The color in his face drained upon remembering the entire event...how clueless he had turned his head away from the child, who now had a saddened expression on his delicate face.

"Arthur I already told you your mommy's...gone."

The child stared into the other's vibrant blue eyes for a moment, before snuggling into the mans chest, clutching his leather jacket as if it were a blanket. He let out a muffled sob before fading back to sleep.

_'I bet england took better care of me...'_He thought solemnly to himself, as he cradled the resting child in his his best to move his arm from under the blonde's head without letting him fall, he reached for the doorknob.

((part 2 bishies. hope you liked it))


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